Lonely is the Knight (Merriweather Sisters Time Travel Romance Book 3) (9 page)

“I’m sorry about throwing up on your shoes. Weren’t we on a horse?”

“Do not worry yourself. The water washed them well enough.” He held out a hand, helping her to her feet. “You were ill again and insisting you needed to wash in the sea. We brought you back down to the shore. Think you are ready to travel?”

“I’m good to go.” Charlotte couldn’t seem to find her balance.
 

“I won’t let you fall.”

His hands were warm and callused. Within his arms Charlotte felt at peace for the first time since she’d lost Lucy.

“I’m grateful for the rescue. I’m Charlotte. Charlotte Merriweather.” She swayed and tripped over a rock. “Did you already tell me your name? My head is fuzzy.”

“Henry, Lord Ravenskirk, at your service.”

He swept her up into his arms as if she were a small kitten. And she wasn’t some cute, petite thing.
 

“Please don’t let me be drooling.”

“What is drooling?”

This must be what a hot flash felt like. Charlotte was grateful there wasn’t a mirror nearby. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought I was thinking that in my head, but I guess I said it out loud.”

She shook her head. “Drooling is when spit leaks out of your mouth…though drooling sounds much lovelier, don’t you think?”

Her rescuer threw his head back and laughed, as did several of the men with him. Could she be any more awkward?

He stared at her mouth, making her swallow. “Nay, lady. You are not drooling.” He looked at her feet. “Did you injure your foot?”

“I think I twisted my ankle. It hurts.”

“You will ride with me.” He lifted her up onto the horse. Once seated behind her, he put his arms around her to take the reins. No, no, no. She did not have time to get involved with anyone. The only priority was to find her sisters.

Yeah, keep telling yourself that, sugar
, the voice in her head mocked. Henry had rugged good looks and seemed strong on the inside as well as outside. The wind blew his hair in her face, and she barely resisted the urge to touch. Charlotte loved the color of her own blonde hair, until she saw his. It looked like he’d spent a fortune having various highlights and lowlights blended through it, when she knew it was from spending a lot of time outside.

She’d actually done it. Elation coursed through her. But how? Did it have something to do with the lightning? Never mind; she had plenty of time to figure it out. Maybe her sisters would have an idea, though did it really matter? It wasn’t like anyone else would be coming to join her. And given Lucy and Melinda were still missing, she didn’t think you could go back. Seemed like time travel was a one-way ticket. Charlotte refrained from bursting into song. Now she could focus all her energy on finding her sisters. Fingers crossed she was in the same year as them.
 

“Ravenskirk. Is it yours?” She wasn’t a gold digger, not by any means. In fact, she’d prefer a cottage to a castle. But she needed someone with enough power to help her.
 

“Aye, have we met before?” He spoke close to her ear, his deep, scratchy voice sending shivers through her. “I would certainly remember meeting one as pleasing as you, demoiselle.”

Oh dear, she was in trouble. He was charming as well as handsome. Charlotte looked up at the sky. It was a bright cerulean blue, reminding her of his eyes. She could feel the strong muscles in his legs against her thighs as he guided the horse. Her sodden bags dripped as they rode. Her leggings and t-shirt were already dry.

So many questions. But she couldn’t start firing them at him one after another without giving herself away. “How far is your home?” She looked around from side to side. “I don’t see a castle, and I would think they’re big enough I would notice beforehand.”

He chuckled. “Ravenskirk is half a day’s ride. My men and I were on our way home when we spied something on the beach. Shipwrecks tend to wash up along these beaches. The rocks are treacherous. Instead of finding the remains of a ship, we found you, lady.”

“You don’t have to call me lady. It’s Charlotte, remember? Charlotte Merriweather.”

“As you wish.”

She twisted around to look at his face and see if he was mocking her. Nope. He looked serious. The breeze caught a lock of his hair. It was down to the tops of his shoulders, and for a moment she wished hers was short instead of reaching halfway down her back. Between the time in the ocean, lying on the sand, and now this wind, it was going to be an awful mess when she tried to comb all the tangles out.
 

“Were you traveling by ship, Mistress Merriweather?”

Charlotte fidgeted. Henry seemed like the kind of man she could tell the truth, but she wasn’t sure. He also seemed like he didn’t take anything in life too seriously. She couldn’t say why she thought so, only that it was an impression based on what she’d seen so far. And she needed someone to take her seriously.

“I was in an accident. I found myself washed up on the shore.”

Hopefully that would be enough.

“I will send a messenger to your family. Where are you from?”

Great. Just great. Now what was she going to say? Charlotte racked her brain for what she’d written down in her journal. She’d come up with a story and thought it was a good one. The blinding headache was making it hard to focus.
Deep breaths. Calm. Now remember.

“I’m from a distant land. I don’t think you’ve heard of it. It’s called America.” She paused to see what he would say. He waited for her to continue.

“I was traveling to England to find my sisters, Lucy and Melinda. My aunt and I haven’t had a letter from them in a very long time. I’m not exactly sure where to find them.” Which was true.

“Where did they say they were going?”

Before she could answer, one of Henry’s men rode up beside them. He was a scary-looking man. She wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley. Thank the stars he was on their side.

“My lord, we should stop here. The lady needs dry her clothes.” He leaned closer to Henry, and if Charlotte hadn’t been sitting right in front of him she wouldn’t have been able to hear what he said next.

“One of the men spotted a man wearing Hallsey colors.”

“Tell the men to stop.” Henry looked down at her, and she was struck again by how good-looking he was. She only hoped he was as pretty on the inside as he was on the outside.

“You heard?”

She nodded. “Are we in danger?” She felt his body tense.

“Fear not. You are safe. We will stop and build a fire so you can dry your clothing. Put on something more…er, more. I do not want you to take a chill. There was no chest washed up on shore. You have nothing but your wee bags?”

“I have two dresses, but they’re soaking wet. I’ll hang them next to the fire to dry.” It had never occurred to her to pack the clothes in a waterproof bag. It wasn’t like she could have foreseen driving over a cliff into the ocean.

There was a small clearing in the woods. Henry dismounted, lifting her off the horse.

“You can put me down.”

“Nay, your foot is swollen.” The last time a guy had carried her was her dad when she was small. It was nice to be taken care of. Charlotte guessed he must be about six foot two. She liked that he was taller than her. He carried her over to a boulder and gently put her down.

“Stay here and rest. My men will build a fire and make sure all is well. I will fetch you something to drink.”

She watched him go, admiring his form. He looked healthy and strong. Not like those guys that spent all their time in the gym. Henry looked like he’d worked outside his whole life, doing things with his hands.
Like fighting with swords?
said the snarky voice inside her head.

One of the men started a fire. Charlotte wished she’d paid closer attention. In her pack, she had a pack of waterproof matches, but certainly couldn’t bring them out in front of everybody.

While it was a warm day, she was grateful for a fire to dry her things. Everyone was busy, so she opened her backpack and pulled out her clothes. When Charlotte had a few minutes to herself, she’d dump out both bags and check everything over. If she did it now, she had a feeling too many curious eyes would watch. Not to mention she didn’t want to be under attack and trying to stuff everything back in the bags. When she stood, her stomach rolled, the pain in her ankle making her pant.
 

“Lady? May I aid you?”
 

One of the men took her arm.

“I wanted to look for sticks so I can dry my clothes. A drying rack is easy to make, and I have twine to tie them together.”

“Rest, lady. I will gather your sticks.”

The man came back with an armful of wood. “Will these do?”

“Yes, thank you.”

He handed her each stick and watched as she tied them together, making a drying rack. Then he nodded, took her twine, and made her two more.

“They will be overlarge.” Henry handed her a tunic and hose. “You needs dry what you are wearing.”

Charlotte tested her ankle. She could hop. An image of the Easter Bunny wearing her clothes popped into her head, making her giggle. She clapped a hand over her mouth.

Henry rolled his eyes and scooped her up. He carried her behind some bushes and set her down.

“I will turn my back. Lean on me as you need.” He said over his shoulder, “I will not look.”

Charlotte put her hand on his back, then balanced on her good foot. She got the t-shirt off and her leggings down but couldn’t step out of them.
Do something. You’re standing naked in the woods with possible thieves around and a camp full of men.

“Um, Henry? Could you lift me and put me down about two feet to the left? I can’t step out of my leggings—I mean hose.”

He started to turn, and she yelped. “Don’t look.”

The man chuckled. His hands came around her waist and he went still. The touch of his hands against her skin warmed her. What was he mumbling?

She wished she spoke Norman French. But she gave him credit—he had his eyes closed as he lifted her, turned her, and put her down to his left.

“Better?” he said in a strangled voice.

“Much. Now hold still while I dress.” She pulled the tunic over her head. It was a deep blue and beautifully embroidered. When she inhaled, it smelled like him. Then she looked at the hose and let out a sigh.

An answering chuckle told her he knew what she needed.

“Shall I lift you now, lady?”

He didn’t give her time to answer before he pulled her against him and lifted her a few inches off the ground. Leaning back against him, Charlotte was able to pull the hose up.

“I’m dressed.”

“You look fetching in my tunic and hose.”

Their gaze held. Henry picked her up again. “Did you not eat during your journey?”

Her stomach growled in response.

“I thought not. I will feed you, Mistress Merriweather.”

In the makeshift camp, sitting on her rock, Charlotte noticed one of the men watching her. She smiled at him and he nodded. As he turned, she saw he had a hand on the hilt of his sword. He must’ve been assigned to watch her. It made her feel better. Safe.

It seemed like days ago since she’d eaten the fish and chips for lunch, but it had probably only been hours or a day at most. Her stomach protested, telling her she needed to eat now. As if thinking of him conjured him, Henry brought her bread and cheese. Then he handed her a cup. She sniffed. Ale. She wasn’t a fan, but it would do.

“I didn’t realize how thirsty and hungry I was. Thank you, Lord Ravenskirk.”

“You will have a proper meal when we reach my home.”

While she finished her meal, she noticed the men were spread out in a circle, all of them seeming to go about their normal business but looking very alert.

She watched, fascinated by everything they did, taking in every detail, from the style of their clothing to the weapons, horses, and the sound of their voices. She knew they were speaking Norman French, and was happy Henry spoke to her in English. How strange she must sound to him. It seemed his men also spoke English—she heard one of them saying it was the language the wenches spoke in the tavern. She tried not to take offense.

The weather was nice. She guessed it was in the low to mid-sixties. She was looking forward to it cooling down a bit tonight. Tonight she would actually sleep in a castle. When they were settled, she needed to figure out how to get Henry to help her find her sisters. While he was attractive, Charlotte had come to accept she would never marry. It just never seemed to work out for her, no matter how much she wanted to find that one guy. It seemed fate had other plans.
 

There was a scuffle at the far side of the camp. A screech made her shiver. One of the scary-looking men dragged a body out. Charlotte clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t scream.

“The man was alone. Likely a scout.”

Henry examined him.

“’Tis one of Hallsey’s men. Liam, Guy. Ride out, see if any of his men are following us.”

Charlotte was lightheaded. The man was dead and they were all acting like it was no big deal.
Remember, this is medieval England. Things are different here. They are well within their rights to kill that man. To them it is normal. Get it together.